Page 2 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
"Please." The word escapes without permission, embarrassingly close to begging.
He steps back from the doorway, a reluctant invitation. "You're tracking mud."
Not "come in" or "let me help you." Just an observation about the trail of muck following me into his pristine domain. Charming.
"Stellar observation skills. Must be why they made you a ranger." I clutch my camera bag closer, water dripping from my elbows onto his wooden floor.
The door closes behind me with a decisive click, sealing out the chaos of the storm. The cabin's warmth wraps around me, highlighting just how thoroughly soaked and frozen I've become. My teeth chatter as I stand awkwardly in the entryway, uncertain of my welcome despite being inside.
"Stay there." He points to a small mat by the door. "I'll get towels."
Left alone, I take in my surroundings. The station is smaller than it appeared from outside—a single room with a kitchenette in one corner, a desk covered in maps and logbooks in another, and a small sitting area centered around a currently dormant woodstove. A door presumably leads to sleeping quarters. Every surface gleams with meticulous care. No personal touches adorn the walls, just official forest service maps and wildlife identification charts.
The ranger returns with a stack of towels, thrusting them toward me with minimal eye contact.
"Thank you..." I trail off, realizing I don't know his name.
"Caleb." He offers nothing more, watching as I set my camera bag carefully on the bench by the door before taking the towels.
"Harper Wells." I wrap one towel around my shoulders and use another to blot my dripping hair. "Wildlife photographer. I was tracking a golden eagle when the storm hit."
His only response is a noncommittal grunt as he moves to the kitchenette, filling a kettle with water. The silence stretches uncomfortably as I dry myself as best I can, hyperaware of the puddle forming beneath me despite my efforts.
"Your knee is bleeding."
I glance down at the torn fabric of my hiking pants, the smear of blood visible through the rip. "Fell on the way down." I shrug, trying to project nonchalance rather than the pain throbbing with each heartbeat.
Caleb disappears again, returning with a small first aid kit. He points to a chair at the small table. "Sit."
"I can handle it."
"Sit." The single word holds no room for argument.
I lower myself gingerly onto the wooden chair, wincing as I extend my injured leg. Caleb kneels before me, his movements economical as he opens the kit. His proximity sends an inexplicable wave of awareness through me—the scent of pineand woodsmoke clinging to his flannel shirt, the careful precision of his large hands.
"This will sting." His warning comes a second before alcohol meets raw flesh.
I hiss through clenched teeth, fingers gripping the edge of the chair. "Thanks for the heads-up."
The ghost of a smile touches his lips before vanishing so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. He works in silence, cleaning the wound. His fingers are calloused but gentle, a contradiction that draws my attention more than it should.
"Not too deep." He applies antiseptic ointment and covers the cut with a bandage. "No stitches needed."
"Good. I left my suture kit in my other pants."
This time, the slight twitch of his lips is definitely real. Victory.
The kettle whistles, saving him from having to respond. He rises in one fluid motion, returning to the kitchenette. I watch as he prepares two mugs of tea, his broad back turned to me. The storm continues its assault, rain lashing against windows, wind howling through the surrounding forest while I check out how amazing those pants make his ass look.
"Sugar?" He doesn't turn around.
"No, thanks. Plain is fine."
He returns with the tea, placing one mug before me before retreating to lean against the counter, maintaining distance between us. The warm ceramic feels heavenly against my cold fingers.
"So, Ranger Caleb, do you always welcome storm-stranded photographers with such enthusiasm, or am I special?"
His eyes narrow slightly. "Most people check the weather forecast before heading into the backcountry."
